My First 5K in 28 Years, July 3, 08
It was a beautiful night for a run.  Ok, it was a beautiful night, the only reason to run is if you’re being chased . . . nobody was chasing me.  I began the evening with a group of friends at a BBQ joint.  Yes, we dined on slow cooked pork before the big race.  I’m told it’s a southern thing.

My friends told me fat people ran these things too but I seemed to be the only one. When we arrived at the race I saw an overwhelming number of “buff” people.  It looked like an audition for a soap opera!  They were walking around shirtless, their runner’s numbers pinned directly to their chest.  I felt like a wus,  but I wasn’t about to take off my $39 runner’s shirt. I wanted everyone to know I had expensive taste. To make sure I left the price tag on.

The race began and I took off at a steady pace.  I was proud of myself.  Not too fast, not too slow, but better than my practice pace.  Then it happened.  People started passing me.  One by one they were bouncing past.  These were not professional runners from west Africa.  They were ordinary people from west Knoxville.  Average people just like me, only faster.  I didn’t see any of these ordinary people before the race.  They just appeared from the back to run past and humiliate me.  Didn’t they know I was there to humiliate them? I guess they didn’t read my email.

I was beginning to deal with the fact the average people were passing me when a fat guy trots right by.  I say fat because he was 270 on his best low carb day.  But he wasn’t just fat.  He was older and had less hair, hard to believe I know.  I began to formulate my plan for catching and passing him.  I was confident that he would slow down to a walk when the course started up hill.  He became my inspiration.  I couldn’t let the fat guy beat me.  I kept my pace knowing we would meet again.

Just after the half-way point there was a slight hill.  My eyes were wide open.  Where was my fat guy?  With focus in my eyes I barely noticed when I ran past a couple thin guys walking.  However, I did notice that my passing them gave them the inspiration to start running again.  Then it hit me.  I was their fat guy!  Suddenly it wasn’t about passing my fat guy.  It wasn’t about finishing the race.  It wasn’t even about staying ahead of the two thin guys.  It was all about remembering the spot on the road where I lost my last ounce of self-respect.  To add insult to my certain to come injuries the really buff were now running the race a second time.  Yes, these people would run it twice before I finished it once.

I finished the race in 36:06 minutes.  I was proud of my accomplishment, happy to have the T-shirt, and wishing I could see my fat guy attached to an oxygen tank.  But he beat me fair and square like most everyone else.  He didn’t just beat me, he inspired me. He made me realize I didn’t need an oxygen tank. There was only one reason a man of his age and size could beat me.  He had trained more.  Better practice equals better performance.  In my next race I’m going to be someone else’s fat guy.
Barry Mitchell

New York City Toy Show

A crew of children’s entertainers went to the NYC Toy Fair Trade Show. Our group included Tim Sonefelt, Mark Daniel, Bruce Bray, David Kaye, and myself. Tim and I flew in on Saturday and took the train from NJ to the big city. It was a first for both of us. I’ve ridden on trains and subways all over the world but when the lady told us which train to take she went on to say it would be 15. With shock in my voice I said, Dollars! She said with a touch in her voice of you’re an idiot.

Tim and I hit the big city with money in our pockets and warm gloves. As our eyes were glazing over with ,I noticed an interesting restaurant at just the time we decided we were hungry. The food was incredible, but at those NYC prices it should be. Most interesting part of the evening was the restroom which was unisex. We have guys and girls in TN but they do everything different in NY. It was an odd experience but I had to try it. I waited until a girl went in so I could have the full experience. It wasn’t really that big of a deal but it certainly makes you want to wash your hands when you’re finished.

A trip to NYC is not official until you take a gypsy cab ride. A gypsy cab is an illegal enterprise offered at a lower cost by a man who failed the driver’s test. This was our number one experience in the city. When I reached over in fear and grabbed Tim’s leg I noticed that our number one experience created for him a number two.

Our next cab ride was official, however, we had to misdirect the driver while Bruce, the fifth man, jumped in and laid across our laps. Ironically, David Kaye kept the driver’s attention by asking if people ever try to get 5 people in a cab, which is illegal.

Our experience at a NY deli was everything you expect; great food with angry, bitter, and resentful customer service. At least that’s the way the waiter looked when he saw the tip.

And finally, I don’t know if New Jersey has the worst roads in America or not. But I do know I wouldn’t want to be riding on them with hemorrhoids.

Barry Mitchell

What a great visit to the northeast. My tour began with the MACA Clown convention. I was the so called headliner of the convention. Clowns are funny people but they don’t know how to pick a headliner. While in the area I visited the Civil War museum, Gettysburg, and Hershey. The museum and Gettysburg were interesting history but depressing due to all the death. Thankfully, I had chocolate to get me over the hump.

Next came great lectures in Hagerstown, Kidabra in NJ, and Philly. And then there was Queens, NY. The Queens Clown Alley was a great group, however, it was my first time in NYC and I was driving. I’m told it is possible to go from NJ to Queens without going through the middle of NYC. I wish someone had told my GPS. By the way a GPS doesn’t work in NYC due to the height of the buildings. That means you’re on your own. Tom McDonnell went with me to NY but he didn’t know where we were either. It was just two guys with no directional finder in the big city with really bad drivers. I don’t know why they even paint lanes on the streets. They serve no purpose at all. But it was a great visit. I only received four hand gestures, was pulled over by a cop, and hit one car while parking. The cop pulled me over to search my van before going into one of the tunnels. They must have a radar that detects flash paper. All went well when he heard me speak and assumed I was just another redneck.

Jim Vagias, took me to NYC again for a tour. It was better because he was driving. He didn’t pay any attention to the lanes either. We went to the deli where Harry had lunch with Sally in the movie, Harry met Sally. I faked an exciting experience at one of the tables but I didn’t get the same response. I guess New Yorker’s see that stuff everyday.

I placed my order trying not to sound southern. I ordered a corned beef on a roll with mayo. The guy making the sandwich said, You gave yourself away when you ordered the mayo. Apparently only Southerns know that a good sandwich must have miracle whip. Bad news is I think the mayo was bad because the next day was all spent in one little room. The moral, HOLD the mayo in NYC, go for the mustard, trust me on this.

I was honored to be asked to perform at Bob Little’s Super Sunday in Philly. It was great fun. Bruce Amato asked me to lecture to the Nashville Kidabra on Monday. In my mind I thought, Philly is above Nashville, TN so I would just drive down Monday morning. You should know that I love the subject of history but I FAILED geography. I left Philly at 10 pm Sunday and arrived at my home in TN at 9 am Monday. A couple hours of re-packing and I was off to Nashville where I arrived at 3 pm. A one hour nap on Steve Varro’s recliner and it was time to head for the lecture. So how did I do it? Around 7 am I had a Sobe super powered drink. Now I’ve never done drugs of any kind but I can only imagine this is what cocaine feels like. I called Tim Sonefelt and told him I felt like Superman. He laughed and said, Call me when you hit the kryptonite wall. I’m proud to report that I was moving so fast that I RAN RIGHT THROUGH IT!

Barry Mitchell

The following is a list of notes written about my January western lecture tour. Each note contains an element of truth and one of humor. It’s up to you to guess which is which.

I drove past the Happy, Texas exit. I wasn’t, so I didn’t.

Driving through New Mexico to Colorado I saw more deer than I’ve ever seen in my life. Unless you count all those dear John letters in my closet.

In Pueblo, CO I saw Lulu’s Gas and Grub. It was a refreshing pit stop since the North is known for Bob’s Big Boy and the South for LeRoy’s Choke and Puke.

The Colorado Springs lecture location had to be changed at the last moment due to a sewer backup in the meeting room. It would have been the one lecture where my act wouldn’t have been the only thing to stink.

I left the snow of Colorado heading for Albuquerque, NM to turn right for Vegas. I was pulled over by a cop in Albuquerque. Bugs Bunny was correct, I should have made a LEFT in Albuquerque.

On the way to Las Vegas I saw several signs for Historical Markers. However, I never saw any kind of marker. Finally, it got the best of me and I stopped and searched until I found a metal sign printed with, On this spot in 1863 nothing happened.

I lectured for Jeff Hobson’s Lecture Network in Vegas. You may have seen Jeff in some of the magic TV specials or one of the shows in Vegas. He is well known for wearing flashy jackets and playing a character that is a little gay, ok a lot gay. In truth he is happily married with kids. BUT, when he saw my pink jacket with question marks he said, Not even I would wear that.

At the Las Vegas lecture I met the world famous Gary Darwin, king of thumb tips. I told him what an honor it was to meet him and asked if he would give me one of his thumb tips. Apparently he was out because all he gave me was a finger.

In Las Vegas I went to the top of the Stratosphere casino and rode one of the thrill rides which hangs off the top of the building. There’s something about being older and wanting to feel younger that always ends in a sick feeling in your stomach.

Phoenix, AZ I went to one of those gyms that only members can get in. Since I couldn’t get in I waited outside in the cold until someone came up and let me in. I wanted to pay someone for my workout but there was no one to pay. I continued to work out hoping someone would show up. When I finished I asked the trainer if he was in charge. I told him how I got in and that I wanted to pay for my time. He said it was ok and he appreciated my honesty. He said they caution their members not to let people in. He asked if I would like to join. I said I would like to but, looking for a gym with better security.

I hit a stretch of road on I-10 in Texas with a speed limit of 80! My first thought was Yippee! My second thought was, This could mean it will be a long time before I get to pee.

At 3 am driving across Texas I was stopped twice by Hwy patrol within a span of 5 minutes. Both times because the bulb was out over my tags. Had I known a blown bulb would create so much attention I would have knocked out the front porch light years ago.

And finally, as I drove 1800 miles in a little less than 36 hours back from Tucson I reflected on my blessings. I only wish I had another 1800 miles to write them ALL down. Thanks to all for your friendship and support. No joke.

Barry Mitchell’,